


Adjust my Worldview, Give me Leave to dream and I will save our world~

by Merlioske



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, BAMF Merlin, Bottom Merlin, Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Druids, First Time, King Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), M/M, Merlioske-friendly, Prince Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Ritual Sex, Top Arthur, Virgin Arthur, Virgin Merlin, different first meeting, druid King merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26999197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merlioske/pseuds/Merlioske
Summary: Camelot is cursed, her people suffering. What is a Crown Prince to do but give his all, in order to save his land and his people?There are whispers, of a sorcerer, the most powerful to ever walk the Earth. Rumors say he rules in the Druid Forest. They say he's their King.If anyone can save his kingdom, it's him, Arthur hopes, riding to seek out Emrys. The one sorcerer, who may be able to help him. Will he, though? Will he grant the request of the son, whose father is massacring his people by the hundreds...?
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 537





	Adjust my Worldview, Give me Leave to dream and I will save our world~

**Author's Note:**

> so i was taking a shower, right? WRONG. >.>" can't even take a bloody shower without fucking getting slammed in the head with an idea and--- you know what, whatever, who needs showers anyway. enjoy. x"D
> 
> eternal thanks to [Pelydryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pelydryn/pseuds/Pelydryn) for a beta read as always <3

~x~

_ The Druids are vicious, my son, never forget that.  _

"Sire, are you sure about this?" It was Sir Leon who asked, which was the only reason the young Prince didn't snap at him. His Head Knight was loyal beyond all doubt. Loyal to _him_. 

_ They slaughter innocents. Their magic is evil and corrupts them to their souls.  _

"I am, Leon. You know we've no other choice."

The border to the Druid Forest could be seen clearly now. Between two white pillars marking the entrance, a small figure loomed. How one could loom while being quite so short, Prince Arthur had no clue, but loom they did. 

_ No one who enters that damned forest is ever seen again. Stay clear, Arthur, promise me.  _

Taking one last shuddering breath, Arthur nudged his mount, his Knight detail following him in sullen silence. 

"Ah, I see Courage has arrived. Far earlier than expected, aren't you?" There was a smirk on the short man's ( _ was _ he a man? Arthur wasn't sure) face. Ignoring the cryptic words, the Prince dismounted and approached. 

"I am Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince of Camelot. I come to seek an audience with King Emrys."

The figure snorted. "King. Oh he'll just  _ love _ that."

As Arthur closed the distance between them, his Knights by his side; however, the figure held a hand up to stop them with a frown. 

"As Guardian of this Passage, I cannot allow you to cross while armed." The Knights bristled, but the Guardian continued, ignoring their outrage. "It is for your own safety. Not that that will save you, if you come harboring any ill will towards the Druids, mind. Our Forest is under the protection of Emrys. Anyone who steps foot in it while wishing us harm dies." 

The Knights froze at the casual delivery and then, a moment later, all hell broke loose. 

"Sire you cannot---"

"... utter madness it---"

"... mustn't even consider---"

Arthur listened to his Knights clamor about, but his eyes never left the smirking figure before them. Finally, he raised a hand. The Knights quieted, though their reluctance reverberated louder than their words had before. 

"All right," he said simply, and the smirk on the Guardian’s face stretched into a grin. He dared a small smile back. 

"Sire." Leon didn't say anything else, but his presence at Arthur's back spoke volumes. 

Arthur turned to him and removed his sword, placing it in Leon's loose grip. 

"Help me out of my armor, would you?" he asked lightly and watched as emotions flickered through his Knight's eyes before he obviously steeled himself and nodded. 

Arthur hoped it would be enough. He wasn’t quite done. "I will go alone. No. Discussion. I will go alone. Leon, you are to make camp a bit further away, so you don't disturb the forest and its inhabitants. You are to wait for me there,  _ peacefully _ , for three days. If I am not back by then, I am not coming back and you are to return home and… and find another way to save our people. Do I make myself clear, Leon?"

His Knight obviously wanted to protest, but, seeing the fierce determination in his Prince's eyes, he sighed and nodded instead, swallowing his worries and steeling his resolve. 

"Yes, sire."

Arthur clasped Leon on a shoulder and offered him a small grin. "Good man."

With that, he turned back to the Guardian and nodded. "I am ready."

"If you bear  _ any _ ill will towards---"

"I do not. My intentions are pure; I swear it upon my Honour as a Knight of Camelot."

The Guardian nodded, the grin still firmly in place, and moved to the side, letting Arthur through. The Prince checked that his satchel was still tightly fastened to his belt, sent one last look at his Knights and stepped into the Druid Forest. 

~x~

He had been expecting dread, but all he could feel was calm and peace washing over him as he walked. 

Arthur gulped, bracing himself, and forced himself to not relax, not lose focus. 

He kept walking, kept watching for trouble every step. He did not encounter any.

~x~

_ My lord Emrys _ . 

Merlin rolled his eyes and forced down a sigh; the Druids always did have a flair for the dramatic. No matter how many times he asked them to just use his name, they… Merlin shook his head ruefully. They were stubborn bastards. Taliesin most of all. It was he that was mentally barging into Merlin's tent.

Merlin did not respond on sheer principle. 

It didn't take long for Taliesin to barge in physically too. 

"Can I get  _ no _ peace around here, at all?" Merlin asked, a long-suffering, dramatic sigh leaving his lips as he sprawled over a large chair --- he straight up  _ refused _ to call it a throne, thank you very much --- and planted his chin on a closed fist and regarded the Druid Elder with amusement. 

"I know I came here of my own free will, to help you out and what not, but seriously? This is getting rather ridiculous, don't you think?"

_ My lord Emry _ s---

"For the last time, Taliesin, it's Merlin. Say it with me, Mer-lin. And speak aloud, for Goddess' sake."

Looking none too pleased, the Druid opened his mouth and cleared his throat before speaking anyway. "My lord Emrys. There is a young Prince on his way. He's seeking an audience with you."

Merlin blinked at that. A Prince? Could it be? But, why now? Why  _ here _ ? Merlin frowned, his eyes flashing gold, and scrolls of all shapes and sizes flew to the table at his elbow. They all unspooled upon each other as Merlin strode over quickly, his eyes continuing to glow as he sped-read through them, consulting the information and redoing calculations in his head. 

"Hm," he finally concluded. "When he gets here, show him in."

"But my lord! He's the son of---" Taliesin protested heatedly, but Merlin turned to him with fire in his dark blue eyes, making the Druid Elder snap his mouth shut instantly. 

"And he wouldn't have stepped a foot into  _ my  _ forest had he  _ any _ ill will towards anyone here. Or are you doubting the power of my wards, Taliesin?"

Taliesin flinched visibly before shaking his head and moving to the tent's entrance. "No, my lord, of course not. I'll. I'll let you know as soon as he arrives."

~x~

As he stepped into the largest tent to be seen in the encampment, flanked by four armed Druids, Arthur genuinely had no idea what to expect. 

What  _ would _ the rumoured most powerful sorcerer to roam the earth look like? 

Old and gnarly? Shining in ethereal deathly light? Would he have horns or hooves or or… a tail, maybe? Would he---

Any further ponderings Arthur may have had were interrupted when a figure seemed to materialize straight out of the shadows in the middle of the tent. No, it was actually more like he was…  _ Cloaked  _ in shadows instead. He was standing right before a burning brazier too, but no matter how bright the fire burned, Arthur couldn't make out one line of the man's face. 

"Leave us."

The voice seemed to come straight out of the shadows too. The fifth Druid, the one who had opened the tent’s flap to let Arthur in and glare at him menacingly, sputtered.

“But my Lord!”

The figure turned to him then, and… well, Arthur didn’t hear anything else, but the Druids all bowed to the figure as one before turning on their heels and leaving.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but the figure raised his hand signaling for silence. He then raised his other hand and twirled his fingers through the air. As he did so, sparks rose from the brazier and zoomed to the edges of the tent, gathering at the entrance and then seeming to … almost vibrate. Arthur watched, utterly mesmerized, as a see-through barrier rose up, covering the entirety of the inside of the tent in a dome of pale, shining light.

Only when the dome pulsed a few times, indicating its… completion? --- Arthur guessed --- did the figure motion him around the brazier and into a chair by the table.

Collapsing into the only other chair, the figure sighed and then  _ brushed  _ the shadows away from himself, revealing a shockingly young, shockingly  _ human _ face.  _ Shockingly gorgeous as well _ , Arthur thought, fighting down a blush.

“The Druids are harmless, unless they’re threatened, that is… but they  _ are  _ bloody gossip mongers. I apologize if I startled you, but all I did was ward us from being listened in on, you have my word.” If the words hadn’t been enough, the blinding smile accompanying them would have convinced Arthur of the honesty of this man in a heartbeat.

_ Lovely. Utterly and thoroughly lovely.  _ Arthur gulped down against a dry throat and dared a small smile in return. “Much like my Knights then, huh? I swear they gossip more than the scullery maids… I worry they spend more time wagging tongues than training at times.”

Emrys --- and it  _ was _ him, who else could it have been --- laughed. “Not that much different then, are we. Tell me, Arthur Pendragon, why does the crown prince of Camelot come seeking an audience with me.”

Arthur’s smile fell. “I… my kingdom…” He took a fortifying breath and raised his eyes to the startlingly deep blue of Emrys’ before continuing. “Our crops are dying. Our rivers are empty of fish, and the ones we do manage to catch cause such pain upon consumption, death soon follows. Our forests are emptying of animals, and the ones that stay are only ones that are too sick to catch anyway. Our Court Physician says the land itself is cursed."

Emrys listened to him in silence, and when he was finished, nodded. "Sounds like a smart man, this physician."

Arthur gulped again, his throat dry as a desert. "He is."

Nodding again, Emrys waved at the table and a few scrolls rolled themselves up, clearing up space. Arthur looked at the casual display wide-eyed. 

"Well? What do you have for me?" Emrys asked, and Arthur blinked before fumbling for the satchel at his belt, opening it and starting to pull things out. 

He placed three vials in a line before Emrys and watched as the King of Druids reached for them one by one.

“Soil from your fields. Water from your rivers and” --- there was a sharp gasp then --- “this is…” Emrys’ sharp eyes pinned the Prince in place.

Arthur nodded. “Blood of my father, yes. Gaius, that’s our Court Physician, said that the curse might be tied to the bloodline of the ruler, or that undoing it might require it, I… I’m not too sure.” He shrugged. “He said you’d know either way.”

“And what does your father think of his blood being used in a magical ritual?”   
“My father sent me out to find the sorcerer responsible and kill them in the hopes that that would stop the plague.”

Emrys snorted. “Of course he did.” He then poured a wisp of soil into his open palm, added a drop of water and swirled through it with his finger. Arthur did not fail to notice that the sorcerer did not touch the blood. “It wouldn’t work anyway,” he hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I mean, if would, were it one sorcerer and were you able to catch them. This, however? This blight was cast by thirty-three souls, oh noble prince. All of whom are scattered in the four directions now, never to be seen by each other again. While their deaths  _ may _ end the plague cast upon your kingdom, by the time you manage to catch up to and execute all of them, it’ll be far too late. There’ll be no kingdom left to save by then.”

He watched as Arthur’s face fell, his shoulders sagging, as he listened.

“There’s no hope then. My people will continue to suffer, and then die, all because of magic. My father is right - all magic is, is evil,” he breathed, seemingly having forgotten who he sat before.

Emrys’ loud snort snapped him out of his despaired spiralling. “Sure, blame the sorcerers.”

“Who else would I blame then, if not for them?! Because of their evil ways, my people---”

“Your people have magic in their veins too, Arthur Pendragon,” Emrys interrupted, his voice booming and commanding Arthur’s silence in an instant. “Magic is everywhere. It’s in everything and everyone. Magic is the fabric of the world. Your father…” Here he seemed to deflate. When he looked back into the Prince’s eyes, Arthur saw pity there. Pity and sorrow and sadness. 

“What your father failed to realise was that magic, in the hands of people, people like me, is just as much a tool as a sword is in yours. Just like you raise a sword to cut down your enemies, I cut mine with spells and incantations. Just like you raise your shield to defend your people against the attack of your enemies, I raise wards to protect mine. Magic, my dear prince, is just a tool.  _ How _ it is used depends on the person using it.” 

Emrys gave him a smile and raised his hand, slowly, so as not to startle the Prince. “I use mine to help with our harvest. And to entertain our children on an autumn evening.” He waved his hand, and blue butterflies burst to life around them. Another wave, and tiny dragons rose from the brazier and chased the butterflies around. The sight filled Arthur with child-like joy, and before he knew it, he was grinning as he watched the show. 

“I use it to speed up the healing of a broken arm when one of our more adventurous children breaks it after falling out of a tree. I use it to end the suffering of a horse when he is too old, or gets hurt and there’s nothing else I can offer to help ease its pain.”

Arthur sobered up at that and listened to the sorcerer speak attentively. 

“There are so many things I can do with magic, Prince Arthur.” His voice was a purr now, washing over the Prince like a caress. “Like making my partner’s favorite flower bloom out of season, or a favorite fruit grow whenever they desire its taste. Or, I can make them experience unimaginable pleasure on a cold winter’s night…”

Arthur’s breath hitched at that, and Emrys swallowed visibly before continuing. “So see, magic in itself is not what’s evil. Not at all.”

The Prince took a shuddering breath and shook off the daze he seemed to have fallen into. “Be that as it may, the fact of the matter is ---  _ these _ people, these  _ thirty-three _ people,  _ have _ used magic for evil and… why are you shaking your head at me?” 

Emrys sighed. “It wasn’t evil. It was desperation. Desperation and grief. Your father’s genocide was reaching critical numbers. Their children were dying. The last raid… it… I… I know you weren’t there, so I’m not sure how much you’ve heard, but…”

“What? What was so horrible, that my whole kingdom has to---”

“It was a teaching village. Barring the seven teachers, the rest of the population weren’t a day over thirteen. There were eighty-five children there, Arthur. Only thirty seven of them had as much as a drop of magic. There were no survivors.”

The pure, unadulterated horror on Arthur’s face gave Emrys hope that the Prince had indeed known nothing about the massacre.

“He… he bragged how there were no casualties. He praised our Knights… I… I didn’t know, I swear to you, I didn’t.”

Emrys nodded. “I believe you,” he stated simply, and a weight he didn’t even know he had tumbled from Arthur’s chest. “Do you still believe the sorcerers who cursed your kingdom deserve to die?” he asked quietly and held his hand back from reaching out and touching the Prince.

Arthur sniffled, turned away sharply and rubbed his eyes dry with a careless hand. “No. I do not think they should be killed because of what they did out of grief and sorrow. But that does not help my kingdom, does it? My people are still going to suffer, to die, because of what my father’s convictions did.” He ran a hand through his hair in an exasperated huff, clearly doing his best to not dissolve into panic.

“...not… necessarily.”

Arthur’s head snapped up, looking at Emrys with such desperate hope filling his eyes, Emrys bit his lip and huffed a sigh.

“To break something like this, a curse of this magnitude… it came from the lives of thirty three souls, so, for the balance to be kept…”

“I volunteer.”

Emrys blanched. “What the. No. Seriously? Just how conceited are you?”

Arthur blinked in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

Emrys scoffed. “Royals. Do you seriously think your one life equals those thirty-three? You think you’d alone be enough? Honestly.”

Arthur flushed crimson. “What then? I don’t have anything else to offer but my life.”

“And you’re oh so willing to waste it on this?” Emrys asked curiously, making Arthur bristle.

“Waste? It’s not a waste if it saves my people!”

Emrys’ eyes softened at that. “I see. A Prince willing to die for his people. There may be hope for you yet, your highness.”

He clapped his hands then, startling Arthur into a flinch. Giving him an apologetic little grin, he nodded to himself and waved a hand at the tent’s general vicinity. Vials began moving, clinking at each other; a bowl floated over to the table, followed by numerous vials and a pouch or two.

“All right. I’ll lift your curse, Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince of Camelot.”

Arthur gasped. “You will?” At Emrys’ nod he grinned, but then frowned a second later. “But what about the balance?”

The grin Emrys sent him back was nothing if not straight up lecherous. “Oh, my dear prince,” the sorcerer purred, sending shivers down the Prince’s spine. “There is more than one way of paying balance where life is due. I will, however, require more than simply your participation in the ritual. A price for services rendered, if you will.”

Arthur gulped, steeling himself, and nodded. “If it is mine to offer, you’ve only to ask.”

Emrys hummed, standing and reaching for a vial of the soil Arthur brought to him. “It is not, not yet at least. But one day soon it will be. Until then, a promise will do.” He poured some soil into the bowl and reached for the vial of water next.

“What is it?” Arthur asked, more than a little cautiously. After all, the sorcerer could ask for almost anything and Arthur was pressed to give in - there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to save his people.

“I wish you to stop hunting my people. And when you’re king, I want you to lift the ban and help reintegrate them into your kingdom. Magic was a part of the land long before the Pendragons took reign, and it will continue to be so for long after you’re all dust again. Balance needs to be kept, Arthur; all I’m asking is for you to do your part in making sure it is.”

The Prince gulped and watched as the Druid King mixed the soil with the water and then poured a couple of drops of scented oil into the mix before mumbling over the bowl. His eyes glowed gold, and the mixture shone a moment before calming down again. Emrys shook a dried leaf into his palm and crushed it between his fingers before adding it to the bowl as well. The bowl glowed again, the mixture mixing, and Emrys mumbled a few more words, poured a few more drops from different vials and shook the whole thing a few times before deeming it ready.

“Well?”

Emrys’ attention once again focused on him, Arthur could do nothing but nod. “I accept your terms. I shall do my best to prevent the hunting of your people while my father rules, and once I take the throne, I will lift the ban on magic. And help reintegrate it into our lives.” He finished at the raised eyebrow.

“Splendid. Up you get then.” Emrys told him cheerfully, waving his hand at the tent again. When Arthur stood, looking around uncertainly, Emrys bit his lip in silent contemplation.

“I have a feeling you… don’t exactly know… anything about the ritual needed to do what you’ve asked me to do, do you?”

Arthur shook his head, his hands going to his elbows and squeezing tightly, trying to reassure himself.

“Would you like me to explain before we start?” Emrys offered gently, and the Prince breathed a sigh of relief before nodding emphatically. “All righty then. So, this is all rather straightforward, as far as rituals go. I’ll paint a few runes and a few symbols on you using this goop here - nothing to worry about, I assure you. It’ll make the connection needed far easier, what with you being the Prince of that land and the land cursed being what I paint on you, makes sense, right?”

Arthur nodded again, already reaching for his belt.

“Then wehavesex while I chant a few words and that’s that --- the curse is lifted and your people and your kingdom safe again.”

Arthur froze. Raised his head, caught Emrys’ eye. Watched as scarlet roses bloomed across those high cheekbones. Realised that Emrys was probably even younger than he had first surmised. Gulped.

“Sex magic?”

Emrys nodded. “Another form of life magic.” He shrugged like it was not a big deal, when it obviously was anything but.

“So instead of bleeding to death thirty three times I have to, what, have sex with you thirty three times?” Arthur asked, completely seriously, and had to admit that seeing the Druid King sputter was rather satisfying, as far as feelings went.

“I… what… no! Goddess, that… I… Just get your damn clothes off, would you?” Emrys finished weakly, a blush still bright across his cheeks.

Arthur bit down a smile and pulled his tunic over his head. At the sharp inhale, his head snapped to where Emrys was standing a ways off, watching his every move.

“Something wrong?” he asked, concerned and then did a double take --- apparently, in the length of time it had taken him to wrestle off his tunic was quite enough for Emrys to do much the same, except, well, more. Arthur’s gaze roamed over the uncovered flesh with greedy eyes, soaking in all that alabaster skin on display.

The sorcerer just gulped meanwhile and shook his head, rather oblivious to the tiny crisis the Prince was in the midst of having. “Not a thing. You can leave your clothes over there.” His voice sounded hoarse as he pointed at the table where his own clothes were also floating to after folding themselves.

~x~

“Merlin.”

Arthur blinked his eyes open and watched as Emrys drew runes across his chest, sticking his fingers into the bowl for more makeshift dye every few strokes. “What?”

“My name. I just realised, I’ve failed to introduce myself properly.” He shrugged and reached up to draw something on Arthur’s forehead.

“I thought… Emrys was…?” He let the question hang.

Emrys, no,  _ Mer _ lin, shrugged again and wiped his fingers on a cloth before stepping back.

“It is what the Druids keep insisting on calling me. My mum named me Merlin, however, and it’s what I prefer, to be quite honest.”

“Ah, so it’s _ Mer _ lin, I’m supposed to… you know. While you’re…” Arthur felt himself flush and cursed inwardly. His inexperience was showing through, and it would just not do.

Merlin cleared his throat, blushing all the way up to his ears, and Arthur struggled to not find it absolutely adorable.

“Actually… I’m the one who’s going to be… you know.” He huffed a sigh and pointed first at himself, “Goddess’ vessel,” then at Arthur. “Supplicant. I’m the one you’re going to be offering your life… well, through? I guess?”

Arthur did a double take. “You guess? Are you telling me you’ve not done this before? Will this even work?”

Merlin bristled. “Of course it will work! Just because I’ve never had to uncurse an entire kingdom, doesn’t mean I don’t know how to---”

Arthur stepped up to the flailing sorcerer and put his hands on his shoulders placatingly. “I know, I know. It’s not you, really, I’m just… nervous.”

Merlin blinked at him and cocked his head to the side. “Don’t be, it’s not like you’re the one being… and I know this is my first---” his flush deepened and the breath in Arthur’s lungs stuttered. “But I’m perfectly aware of what goes where and… I won’t hurt you.” 

That made Arthur smile and he knew it was too soft, but he couldn’t help it, really, he couldn’t. “I know.”

Merlin huffed, shrugged the Prince’s hands off and motioned him over to the other side of the tent where furs were laid out. “Come on then, let’s get this done.”

~x~

Merlin’s hands were trembling when he pushed Arthur down onto the furs, his breath stuttering as he went to kneel above him. For all his postering and power, this… this wasn’t something he had done before. He heaved a bit, pulling air into his lungs, his eyes catching the Prince’s, and he bit his lip.

Arthur’s hands landed on his hip bones, startling him, but when he began rubbing his thumbs in smooth circles, it soothed him enough for his eyes to glow gold and another vial to zoom into his outstretched hand.

Arthur kept his eyes trained on the sorcerer’s eyes as he did so and hummed when his gaze lit up.

“What?” Merlin asked, unstoperring the vial and pouring oil over his fingers.

“I see the sun in your eyes when you do magic,” Arthur whispered in a wondrous tone, making Merlin flush. “It’s rather beautiful.”

“Shut up,” Merlin huffed before reaching behind himself. At the first touch of his fingers, he gasped, his eyes fluttering closed, while his mouth fell open. 

He was a vision. The Prince couldn’t look away.

A moment later, Merlin grunted, a shudder running down his body, and Arthur hummed, shushing him, patting his sides in soothing motions.

“Slow down. You don’t want to hurt yourself. Want me to take over?”

Merlin blinked at him, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah, maybe not. Next time, though? All you.”

Arthur’s lips twitched up into a smirk. “Next time, huh? Confident aren’t---”

But the Druid King was rolling his eyes and leaning in to kiss him and talking really stopped being a priority for Arthur then.

He might not have been touched…  _ much _ , but Arthur had kissed before. Women, men, stablehands and handmaidens, even Knights. None of them had ever kissed him like this, however.

The Druid King was taking over his senses, leaving him gasping and breathless and feeling like a live nerve.

Arthur moaned, his fingers flexing against Merlin’s hips, pulling the slender King closer, making their leaking erections grind together. Merlin groaned into his mouth, rolled his hips seeking friction, made Arthur grasp at him more, roll his hips in return. 

Arthur ran his hands over Merlin's sides, splayed one over his lower back, pulled him in closer. His other hand trailed up the Druid King's chest, reached a nipple, pinching it gently. 

Merlin whined, shuddering in his arms. With a gasp, he pulled away, then pulled his hand from behind him, poured more oil on his already glistening fingers and wrapped them around Arthur's straining cock, stroking in slow, smooth motions. 

Arthur gasped, his eyes snapping to Merlin’s. He watched, barely breathing, as the Druid King rose up on his knees, placed his dry hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and lowered slowly, taking him inside his body.

Arthur groaned, dropping his forehead down to Merlin’s chest… the heat around him, the tightness… it felt magnificent. He mouthed at the collarbone in front of him, making the sounds shudder out of the man in his lap. Otherwise he kept still, no matter how much he craved to move, to grab Merlin by the sides and slam his hips up up  _ up _ , he knew he had to wait. So he sat, unmoving, except for his lips and teeth and tongue, putting a necklace of bruises on the Druid King, marking him for all to see.

Soon enough, Merlin rose slowly before lowering back, all slick, wet heat and unbelievable tightness, and Arthur tried to breathe, he  _ did _ , but all he could do was  _ feel _ instead. So he leaned in, captured Merlin’s mouth with his, closed his eyes and  _ felt _ . They moved like the tide, up and down, in perfect symphony with each other, in perfect balance.

Then Merlin began to chant, his fingers tangling into hair on Arthur’s nape, his voice lilting like a wave. The markings on Arthur’s skin were glowing; Merlin’s eyes were glowing, the  _ air _ around them was glowing.

Arthur gasped, pulling Merlin to his chest, his hips snapping up, harder and faster, and Merlin was sobbing around his lilting words, running his fingers through Arthur’s hair, his eyes glowing brighter and brighter.

Then Arthur was coming, vaguely aware there was a responding wetness spreading across his chest, and then they were falling, flying,  _ shining  _ brighter and brighter and---

~x~

“Sire!”

Sir Leon sounded so relieved Arthur almost laughed --- he was still feeling like he was floating more than walking. The Guardian of the border cackled when he saw him pass before bowing to him, all serious and respectful like. Arthur would have been confused, but he genuinely couldn’t have mustered up enough care at that particular moment.

“Leon. Good, I see you had the situation well in hand here.” Arthur smiled, clapping his Head Knight on the shoulder. “Here, the Druid King was kind enough to resupply us for our journey back. Get this to the men. We leave as soon as you lot get some food in you.”

Leon gaped at the sack, brimming with fruit and dried meats and heavens only knew what else. “Sire? Were you… successful?”

Arthur grinned.

~x~

It took three years, in the end. Three years of first bickering, then straight up fighting with his father, before Arthur was crowned. It took screaming matches that echoed through the halls and left the castle hushed for days. It took doors, slammed so hard the wood splintered.

It took harsh words, and harsher actions.

_ “No,” Arthur said, cool and calm, as he watched his father freeze. _

_ “No?” the king hissed, trembling in rage, and Arthur heard himself sigh. _

_ “No. You’re the king. If you want a political alliance, you marry her yourself. I have no intention of taking her, or any other pawn you throw my way as a wife. I am not cattle for you to sell as you see fit, father.” _

_ “How dare---” _

_ Arthur tuned the rest out. Just like he tuned out so many other ‘conversations’ that followed. It wasn’t important anyway. It didn’t matter. _

The crown sat heavy upon his head when pale, soft hands placed it there. Arthur raised his head and returned the smile his sister was sending him.

_ “I will not forget,” Arthur swore between kisses. “I will keep my word.” _

_ Merlin had laughed into his mouth, gasping, his eyes shining like the sun. “I know.” _

_ “Wait for me,” the Prince had breathed into his ear before placing one last kiss on his bruised lips as he turned and walked away. _

_ “I will,” a whisper had followed him out of the Druid Forest. It felt like a caress. _

“Long live the King!” Morgana proclaimed loudly, joyfully, and Arthur stood.

He turned around, and looked at his people. His people who were cheering, who were chanting.

“Long live the King!” he heard over and over again as his eyes trailed over the crowd.

_ “Long live the King.”  _

His breath hitched, gaze snapping straight to the pair of dark blue eyes --- with just the hint of sun in them peeking through --- with eerie accuracy. Arthur grinned. And opened his arms. 

Merlin laughed. And stepped right into the embrace.

~x~

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> comments feed me. please. i am Hungy.  
> xoxo


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